


i fed it to the wolves

by naimu



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Attempted Rape, M/M, Multi, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naimu/pseuds/naimu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolves rule New York City.</p><p>Perhaps that was why Tony never liked New York City. Along with the giant empty mansion filled with his ghosts and the massive tower that, yes had his name on the building but never felt truly his.</p><p>Too many wolves in one place made everyone itchy- for a fight or well… a fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ironfries](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ironfries).



> a work in progress. i will try my best to update at least once a week- 
> 
> im quite nervous about this actually and i can only thank my dearest JM who helped me with well, everything. 
> 
> i hope you guys all enjoy.

Wolves rule New York City.   
  
Perhaps that was why Tony never liked New York City. Along with the giant empty mansion filled with his ghosts and the massive tower that, yes had his name on the building but never felt truly his.    
  
Too many wolves in one place made everyone itchy- for a fight or well… a fuck.   
  
Tony makes his way to the top of the parking structure and heads for his car. His was starting to hurt and all Tony wanted to do was drive straight to the airport where he could go back to his Malibu home (where witches and vampires ran the town instead of wolves) but there is just so much in the air that makes Tony become slightly dazed and light headed.    
  
He could smell everything- and so aware of his surroundings.    
  


“Keep it together, Tony,” Tony told himself and shook his head and walked briskly to his car. Once he got in the safety of his car the scents and noise died down, just a little- Tony could feel his skin feeling too tight on his body and a thin layer of sweat forming on his skin. 

  
Everything felt cold and Goosebumps rose on his skin. Chills ran up and down like elevators at the empire state building down Tony’s back and he felt just over all… sad.    
  


“Shit,” Tony cursed and quickly opened his glove compartment where there was a sleek black case, no bigger than a case for glasses. Tony opened the case where a syringe and 4 tiny vials containing some form of liquid sat quietly await their use. 

  
Tony grabs the syringe and one of the vials. He pokes the vial with the syringe needle and draws out a full drawl. Tony quickly taps the syringe for air bubbles and squirts a little to test the needle and simply jabs himself in the leg gracelessly.    
  
A few seconds later he feels the chills down his spine to calm down and his surroundings much warmer.    
  
  


“Jesus, I hate New York.” Tony muttered as he drew out the syringe from his leg and placed it back in the case. He tosses back in his glove compartment and slams it shut. He picks up the vial he drew from and looks at the label. 

 

“Bicalutamide Casodex Finasteride Propecia Proscar Trelstar Depot Triptorelin. Jesus what a mouthful,” Tony reads and chuckles humorlessly. He tosses the small vial on the passenger’s seat and with a heavy heart groans and leans back into his chair. 

  
Then a sudden rush of anger fills him, “God. Fuck!” he screams as he hits the steering wheels with his palms as his voice fills his compact car. He closes his eyes as he releases a shaky breath. His head falls slowly to the steering wheel until his forehead hits is pressed against the steering wheel.    
  
    _‘_ _ 1, 4, 1, 5, , 2, 6, 5, 3, 5, 8, 9, 7, 9...’ _   
  
When Tony was a child his mother had taken him to a therapist to deal with his... everything. He remembers telling the therapist that he was okay. He was fine- just special. He remembers telling her that he feels like any other kid- just better, different but not in a bad way-   
  
All lies.    
  
Bless her heart, he didn’t need to tell her about how he felt like he was choking in the inside- he didn’t need to tell her how he felt like he woke up on certain nights thinking he was dying- she had simply told him,  _ “When you feel ill, when you feel like you can’t breathe- just think of things you like and keep thinking of them till the feeling goes away. Okay?” _   
  
Tony knew that she wasn’t supposed to say something like that. He had read books about psychology and psychiatric practices before he had to come to meetings- he knew any decent psychiatrist was never outright supposed to give directions... but she did.   
  
A week afterwards Tony had found out he no longer had to go see the psychiatrist. It wasn’t good for company image if the public found that the heir of Stark Industries was seeing a shrink.    
  
Tony remembers the fights his mother and father had for months afterwards- After that he simply thought of things he liked when he felt like he was feeling  like he was chocking, drowning, dying... and he simply became better at well... hiding.    
  
    _ ‘3, 2, 3, 8, 4, 6, 2, 6, 4, 3, 3...’ _   
  
  
Tony opens his eyes and looks down at the shaking hands in his lap. He looks at the red angry mark starting to bloom on his palms felt a little better after clenching his fists and letting the hot pain throb a little more.   


“I hate New York,” Tony says again, because he feels like it bares repeating. He takes his hot hands and rubs his face and massages his temples. The injection was kicking in and his headache started to die down. 

 

“Thank God for modern medicine,” Tony thinks then remembers there were only three vials left in his car.  He sighs and pulls out his phone and presses 2 on speed dial. 

  
Only after a few rings a woman picks up on the other end.    
  


“What?”

 

“What, I can’t call?” Tony asks feigning hurt

 

“You can. What do you need?”

 

“What no hello?”

 

“Hello. What do you need?”

“You wound me, Pepper.”

 

“Hello, Mr. Stark, how can I help you?” Pepper said coolly but Tony could hear a smile.

 

“I hate New York.”

 

“You’ve said many times before you left. Is this a whine call, Tony?”

 

“No. I only have three left.”

 

“Jesus, Tony- Already?”

“I don’t think I can hold off another week- its getting worse,” Tony explains gravely with no humor in his voice.

 

“You know there is a reason why those suppressants aren’t working any more. Also they are damaging your body- you’re-“

“Okay. If I don’t take these they harm my body and I’ll be sick and I can’t run the company and go to these meetings you keep forcing me to go to. If I don’t take them I’ll be in heat induced by choking on all these over compensating male alphas of New York and I wont be able to do my work. Take your pick.”

 

“I’m not saying I won’t order you more, but you started out with 20, it hasn’t even been 2 weeks and I’m just wo-“

 

“If the next word isn’t impressed, I don’t want to hear it.”

  
There is a huff from Pepper’s side of the phone.    
  


“You’ll have a new set of 20 in your office tomorrow,” She says not sounding so happy. 

 

“Thank you Ms. Potts, I knew I could count on you to cock block me for the good of the company.”

  
Tony swears he could hear Pepper’s eyes roll.   
  
There is a definite smile in her voice this time as she speaks, “Is that all, Mr. Stark?”   
  


“That is all Ms. Potts.”

  
The phone clicks to an end. Tony’s hand limps down to his lap as if he was a puppet and some had cut his strings. He was so tired. Tired was these endless meetings with rich assholes and world dominating thugs who wore a uniform and justified themselves with their medals; both demanding Tony to build, build, build, make and create things that do the exact opposite. He’s tired of their leering eyes and their judging smug faces.   
  
A sighs escapes Tony’s lips as he brings a shaking hand to the bridge of his nose. He squeezes his eyes shut and  continues counting the decimals of pi (because math, math he can do. Math is easy, familiar, safe). He breathes in deeply letting the drug take its full course and then lets out an equally long breathe out, opens his eyes and readies to face the world again.    
  
Tony starts the ignition to his car- usually he’d take a driver, but the idea of having someone watching him while he was so unstable didn’t seem like a good idea. The car starts and roars pleasantly. He backs out of his parking spaces and makes his way down to the exit. At the exit two of the garage toll workers greet him with a smile.   
  
Both human, one was a woman who had a stoic face which on a better day Tony would have charmed the pants off, and a younger man which a cheery face that reminded Tony of an enthusiastic puppy.   
  
  
    “Mr. Stark!” The young man exclaims with a wide smile. Tony could practically see his tail wagging.   
  
    “Evening,” Tony replies gushing out his usual charm.    
  
    “Leaving for the evening?”    
  
    “Sure am,” Tony says and nods to the woman, “Evening Miss.”   
  
    “Good evening Mr. Stark,” she replies, her stoic expression cracking a little at the corner of her lips.    
  
    “I just wanted to tell you Mr. Stark- that I just so excited about the new model of- of-of the engineering! The new car you’ve made for the formula 1 races? I mean I’m no engineer, but gosh when I was reading the specs on that thing I was just blown and I-“ the young man excitedly announces making his female counterpart roll her eyes and nudge his side. He stops and blushes.   
  
    “Oh gosh, I’m probably keeping you!”   
  
    “No problem! I’m always happy to hear someone who likes my work gushing over me- its what I live for!” and throws the kid a smile which makes him laugh nervously.    
  
    “I know you’re in a hurry, but um… is it okay if-“ the kid blushes eve harder and he fidgets a little.   
  
    “Okay if what?” Tony asks.    
  
    “Well, if I could have a picture?” Tony laughs a little and says okay and places his car into park and steps out of the car.   
  
    “Don’t change any settings, just click it-“ he hears the kind tell his female coworker who smirks and goes, “yea, yea, yea.”   
  
Tony stands next to the kid and flinches just a little when the kid makes contact with his side.    
  
    “Oh wow, you smell nice-” the kid says startling Tony. The kid sees the look on Tony’s face and quickly adds, “SORRY! That is such a creepy thing to say, its just really nice cologne. What is it?” the kid asks, but before Tony can deflect and the female toll worker can click the camera they are greeted with a loud boom, which was followed by scorching heat and darkness.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I Feed It To The Wolves.    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Needless to say Nicholas Fury was not having a good day.  
  
Actually, he was pretty pissed. His right hand man, Coulson had just informed him that One Ms. Virginia Potts had called in on behalf of Stark Industries and is currently flying over from California to New York after informing SHEILD of last night’s attack and kidnapping of one Anthony Stark, billionaire genius playboy.   
  
    “ _ Why _ are we _ just  _ hearing of this?”  
  
Coulson, god bless his god damned soul calmly explained, “Stark Industries was hoping for a ransom call. They were going to pay it.”   
  
    “Dealing with terrorists?” Fury asked nonplussed, raising a dubious brow above his good eye.    
  
    “They don’t see it as a terrorist act, they claimed that a parent would do the same for a child.”   
  
    “Stark’s not a child,” Fury’s tone not amused “And the fact that the man makes weapons for a living definitely makes this a terrorist act. Do we have any idea who is responsible for this?”   
  
    “Stark is worth breaking the law against dealing with terrorists in the eyes of the board members. They were all willing to pay if a ransom was demanded,” Coulson explained and continued in the same calm brisk tone, “Our Intel tells us it is an anti-O.B. group of the name Ten Rings. Recent reports say that their biggest target is to gain territory over Brooklyn.”   
  
Fury feels a migraine coming along at the mention of Brooklyn. Nothing good ever comes out of Brooklyn.   
  
    “Brooklyn…” Fury echoes. Coulson does nothing but silently nods, understanding his employers’ worry.   
  
    “Then how safely can we assume the Ten Rings have taken Stark to Brooklyn?” Fury asks Coulson.    
  
    “Judging by the Ten Rings track record we can be 82% sure that the Ten Rings have taken Stark to or near the Brooklyn area.”   
  
    “Making the Alpha pack of Brooklyn look very,  very  guilty once Stark’s dead body is found.” Fury concludes. Coulson nods and adds:    
  
    “That is one theory we have.” Fury sighs.   
  
    “We want to find this Ten Rings before the Alpha pack finds the Ten Rings. We want them in _alive_ , ” Fury stresses the word alive to Coulson. Coulson nods in agreement.    
  
    “Affirmative,” then pauses, “If we don’t find Stark alive, then this ties our hands. There is nothing SHEILD can do for-“   
  
    “I know the outcome, Coulson. That means we just have to work faster. Get someone to pick up this Potts and bring her to the headquarters. Get every available agent out. Get our eyes up in the air in the shadows, and bring me the best scry you can find.”  
  
  
Coulson nods and quickly heads down the hall, simultaneously pulling out his phone and placing calls.    
  
Fury rubbed un-patched eye and sighed, “The wolves are  _ not _ going to be happy about this.”    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve wakes with a slow yet heavy release of breathe.    
He can’t remember what he’s just dreamt but its not like his other dreams- it feels… fresh, but he doesn’t remember- just sounds of explosions ringing in his ear and a heavy breathing of a stranger- and heat- hot, searing heat in the middle of his chest.    
  
The wolf in him stirs- it wants to shift and run-    
Where? Steve’s not sure, but it makes Steve feel like there are pins and needles all over his body.    
  
He sits up on his bed, throws his legs over the bed and plants his bare feet on the carpet of his bedroom. His elbows are on his knees and his back hunched. The screams are still ringing in his head.   
  
The wolf howls inside- its angry and… and something else…   
  
It doesn’t matter though. It’ll pass like everything else, he thinks- then he laughs to himself ruefully and wonders when was the exact moment he had become so callous.     
  
Steve’s not sure when he started to change. Hell, he’s not even sure when he fully even realized.    
  
The wolf in him is no longer gentle and meager. It is now full, and colossal… and angry.    
  
So angry   
  
  
It feels like that’s all he is now, angry. The wolf in him snarls and wants to run and tear through the night. Steve doesn’t want to, but the animal inside him wants to sink his teeth into flesh and feel the gush of warm, hot blood flow into his mouth.    
  
Steve recites to himself,  _ “Size of his heart. Size of his heart. Size of his heart…”  _ and the grumbles of the wolf eventually settles down and waits for the opportunity to be released so he can sink his teeth into an opposing flesh.     
  
The details are blurry, but the sensation is fresh- the feeling of making someone bleed. To tear out the enemies throat, and howl in triumph while standing on a mount of his fresh kills. Justified kills, Steve tells himself. They were bad men. They were bad wolves.    
  
There is a knock at his door. Steve lifts his head and looks up at the door.    
  
  
    “Come in.” The door then opens letting a beam of light to cut through the dark room. It’s Natasha. He can never hear or smell her coming. She has a grim expression on her face and already Steve’s wolf perks his ears and stands and readies himself.   
  
    “Something has happened.” Steve looks to Natasha to continue, but for some reason Steve can feel that whatever has happened is important. He can feel it in his skin, under, all around-    
The wolf snarls and snaps.   
  
  
    “Tony Stark was kidnapped last tonight.”   
  
    “Tony Stark?” Steve vaguely remembers the name flashing here and there on the news- but Steve paid little attention to things that did not affect him directly. He looked at his advisor and asked, “What does that have to do with us?”   
  
    “Rumor has it that he’s been stashed somewhere in our turf,” Natasha paused, “By the Ten Rings.”   
  
Steve sat a little more straighter. The Ten Rings were a new threat to Steve’s pack. It was a new itch for Steve’s wolf to scratch and gnaw and snarl at but he’s never faced them directly.    
  


”Why are we hearing about it right now?” there is a slight growl in Steve’s voice but Natasha knows better than to take it personally. She knows what troubles her Alpha; she knows what haunts him. 

  
    “Happened at Stark Industries,” and then quickly added, “its one of the largest and successful tech companies. They kept a lid on it in case the kidnappers asked for a ransom- they were willing to pay, since the man they kidnapped was the owner of the company, but no random in the last 24 hours. They went to the authorities.”   
  
    “Do we know why the Ten Rings took this guy?”  
  
    “Not sure, but one can guess. He’s a brilliant engineer, they probably want him to build something” Natasha says with a shrug “Or to simply send a message to other borns. What better way to send a message to the world that they are serious other than killing one of the richest other born in the world? It’ll also send a message to the mobs.”   
  
    “Don’t say that,” Steve said harshly.   
  
    “What? Other born?” Natasha asked, undisturbed by Steve’s harsh tone.    
Steve doesn’t reply, he knows how silly it will sound. 

_ ‘Don’t say mob. I’m not like them… I’m not like him…’ _

  
  
Steve says nothing and stands from the edge of his bed and makes his way over towards Natasha.   
  
    “Tell Clint to get his team ready and go find where the Ten Rings are keeping the engineer.”   
  
    Natasha raises a brow almost surprised at Steve’s choice of order, but she does not say anything. Instead she simply asks, “Do you want me to join them as well?”   
  
    “No. I need you to do something else for me.”   
  
    “Oh?”   
  
    “I need you to get me Nick Fury.”    
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. part 2

These are some of the things that make Director Nicholas Fury happy.   
  
Cleaning guns, the smell of leather from his coat, and the thorough efficiency of Coulson’s paper work and Maria Hill’s ability to shut any stupid dumb ass motherfucker up with a glare.    
  
These are some of the things that do not make Director Nicholas Fury happy.   
  
Trafficking of young underage other borns, obvious rich politicians and terrorists that take over his time when he could be doing something else like managing the turf war between the wolf packs that has been happening for the last 15 some what years.  
  
So needless to say when the richest other born is kidnapped in his own god damn building, in Nick Fury’s god damn town… well that did not make Director Nicholas Fury very happy.   
  
He was even less happy when he saw a familiar red head sitting politely in his office. She did not turn to look at him when he opened the door to his office. She simply sat there with a cup of tea that Clara his desk receptionist probably brought her, sitting quietly and ever so politely in the visitor’s seat.   
  
Fury studied the back of her head as she sipped her tea, still not acknowledging Fury. Fury sighed and closed his door behind him and treaded to his desk. He took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack at the left of his desk and sat down in his seat.   
  
    “How may I help you Madame Romanov?”   
  
Natasha sips her tea and looks up over the rim of her cup. Her long dark full lashes bat, flattering her emerald green eyes. She takes a long sip and places her cup back onto the saucer she had in her other hand and slowly and daintily places the teacup on the edge of Fury’s desk.   
  
    “Its been a while Director Fury.”  
  
    “A social visit, is it?”  
  
Natasha smiles knowingly, “You know it isn’t.”  
  
    “They why are you wasting my time?” Fury demands, but it does not affect Natasha in any way. She smiles as if she’s trying to keep a secret. Fury knows that Natasha doesn’t have to try to keep secrets; she simply keeps them and does not return them back.   
  
    “Because you made me wait. Because you wasted mine.”  
  
  
Fury grumbles and leans back into his chair. Natasha tilts her ever so slightly and with amusement he studies Nick Fury for a minute. Her eyes are clear and dark at the same time. The long lashes fan once then twice with each blink.  
  
After a moment of silence Fury ask unamused, “You done wasting my time? Or did you need another moment to compensate for your loss of time?”   
  
  
Natasha brings her tea up to her lips. She blinks once again him as if to conclude her study of him then lowers her gaze to her tea and smiles enigmatically and says in a voice that sounds light and hollow, like the winter’s wind, “Just a moment more, please.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I Feed It To The Wolves  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The first thing he hears is screaming. It rings in his ears and it sounds like pure pain. Agonizing pain. It sounds so bad, Tony wishes they’d just kill whatever was making that sound so it could be put out of its misery.  
  
He wants to cry and scream himself to make whatever that was making that noise to just stop- its only after the screaming stops when he realizes that he had run out of air in his lungs and this throat felt like it was torn into pieces; that it was actually he, who was screaming.  
  
It hurts. Something is hurting him.  
His insides cries out- his wolf cries out- this howling inside his head and it’s the most saddest and painful thing Tony’s ever heard.   
  
It’s crying and crying- and he feels cold steel cut into his chest.   
  
He’s in and out- he hears shouting and yelling in languages he doesn’t understand.  
  
Tony feels his wolf taking over and for once he lets his wolf take over because he feels so weak, and helpless and he needs help!  
Someone one help me! Please someone help me!  
  
Another incision is made- he can see it this time.  
  
Someone is telling him to calm down, it’s for his own good-   
  
  
It hurts though! Its hurting me! I don’t want this!   
  
The world is spinning  
  
It like his consciousness is a broken glass bottle- it’s all in pieces, jagged, disconnect and painful when stepped on-  
  
So painful  
Oh God it hurts, it hurts so much- someone help him, please help me...  
Am I going to die? Oh god, please don’t let me die here alone like this...  
  
It hurts.  
It hurts...  
  
  
  
Tony hears something vaguely along the lines, “I won’t do it if he’s not given something for the pain! You can kill me if you want but I won’t!”  
  
And all the sudden there is a cloth over his nose and mouth and it smells bittersweet and he doesn’t like it- Tony thrashes and thrashes but its like those dreams he used to have when he was a kid- where he needs to run away from the shadows that want to hurt him, and he’s trying his best to run away- trying his very damn best but he’s not moving at all…  
  
And the world goes dark and silent again.   
  
  
  
When he wakes the the first thing he hears is an that irritating buzzing noise at the back of his head, but it was different from the buzzing vibration that ran through his head, earlier this week. No, this was different- it was an actual buzzing noise. Tony cringed at the constant buzzing- they sounded like mosquitoes whispering in his ear sending an unwelcome aching down Tony’s spine.   
  
‘Why is it so dark?’   Tony thought but it was a full minute till he realized that he had his eyes closed and trying to open them was no easy feat.   
  
‘What the hell?!’   Tony started to panic, his body wanted to twist and turn but his body felt as if it was made of lead, and a weight weighing over a ton was sitting on his chest. The very act of breathing was hard.   
  
    “You shouldn’t move,” someone tells Tony. The voice is laced with a miscellaneous east European accent.   
  
    “They’ve put a silver in your heart.”  
  
Silver in your heart rings like a brass bell in Tony’s chest, or maybe that’s the actual silver- either way Tony felt like shit.  
  
  
‘Fuck.’   Tony suddenly remembers. He was in his car. Talking to Pepper about heat suppressants. Then the toll workers, then there were lots of bright lights and shouting and heat-something definitely exploded and then… fuck… the workers…the kid- fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck… that- that woman with the kind of personality Tony on a good day would have loved to worm through- and the kid. The kid with his over enthusiasm over Tony’s engineering and how he wanted a picture probably something he’d put on his facebook with a caption that followed with something along,  “for those who said taking a job as a garage toll was a waste of my time”  
  
but all Tony can think about is how that kid was on the garage floor bleeding from the head, bleeding from the chest, blood on his face- his eyes wide and scared as he laid next to Tony trying to gasp and breathe  
  
-and how the kid gasped out the best way he can, “Run”  
  
  
Tony wants to vomit- he feels sick of everything and he wants to vomit his insides out, but Tony doesn’t even think there is anything to vomit. He feels hallow inside.  
  
Tony struggles but the voice tells him again, “Really, Mr. Stark. Don’t move. It’ll hurt you more.”  
  
Tony resigns a little but only after realizing he really can’t move anyways. It feels like ages but finally opened his eyes and found a slim late middle aged man looking down at him. He vaguely looked like a Meerkat, with his circular spectacles. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes haggard and worn.   
  
    “Hello,” He greeted. Tony swallowed but nothing. The man gave a knowing acknowledgement and nodded at him, turned and fetched a cup of water with a straw. He placed the straw to Tony’s lips.  
  
    “Slowly...” the mad advises and then says, “I should really just only wet your lips at the moment, you’ve been in and out of consciousness for roughly a week and a half.”  
  
Tony takes a slow drink, and coughs several times choking on the water his throat was not accustomed to. After his throat was wet enough he eased away from the straw and tried to catch his breathe. The stranger took the cup away and turned away to place it somewhere out of Tony’s eyeline. When the stranger returned into Tony’s line of sight he  eyed the man slowly, trying to judge if this man was a friend or a foe, but his brain was too sluggish. In the end Tony decided he was too tired and he felt like he had just swallowed a porcupine and there was a god damn silver bar in his heart so he decided to trust this stranger for a momentarily.  
  
    “Better?” the stranger asks.   
  
Tony can only offer a nod.   
  
The man offers Tony a small smile, as if it was all he could afford and sits on a stool next to Tony. Tony then realizes now that he is on some kind of reclining chair- like the dentist’s chair if a dentist’s chair had bondage gear on them, strapping patients down.   
  
    “You’ve been in and out for several weeks now,” the man states again and continues on, “and you are probably wondering where you are, and who has you,” the stranger says.  Tony nods slowly, still breathing heavily. He hates this, he hates feeling weak and wet and grimy all over- and having to trust this stranger…   
  
    “You are… somewhere. I am not sure myself,” the man starts, “I am pretty sure we are somewhere in Brooklyn. They placed a hood on me when I was first brought in- but I am sure we are somewhere near Brooklyn.”  
  
Tony wants to ask how he’s sure, but he’s so tired. There is heat behind his eyes and his lids become heavier and heavier by the second.   
  
    “As for the people who have you, they are called the Ten Rings.”  
  
    Tony doesn’t want a dramatic introduction. He simply cuts to the chase, “W-what do they want?” Tony manages to ask, but it comes no more as a hoarse whisper. The man raises his eyebrows and smiles at him to say, ‘Oh! You speak!’  
  
    “They want your weapons,” the stranger says as if it was an obvious fact, “They want New York!” he says almost with an amused tone, “They want to rid New York and maybe even the world of other births.”  
  
Tony watches the thin stranger speak, he hears words but its just words to Tony.   
  
    “Other births?”  
  
    “People like you, Mr. Stark. Werewolves, vampires, witches, shifters- you name them- they want to rid them.”  
  
    Tony wants to roll his eyes. He knows what other births are, but it had never been a problem before- what Tony was- what his father and his father before… no one cared about which subgroup of humans anyone was- its always been like this. Why is it a problem now?  
  
Tony felt a headache coming. He looks at the thin man. He’s not sure if he could trust this man fully- so he asks,  
  


“And you?”

  
    “And me? You are curious if I am working with them.”  
  
Tony eyes the man and answers after a moment, “Yes.”  
  
The man laughs and it sounds hollow. It also echoes in the dark room along with the ever so often chine of a water droplet, and some how Tony’s heard the same kind of laughter often before.   
  
    “I am sorry. I am not laughing at you- simply the idea. No, I am not working with them. I should introduce myself. My name is Yinsen, and no I do not want to help the Ten Rings in any way.”  
  
    “How do I know you’re not lying?”  
  
    “Well I am an alchemist. I believe in balance of all things- and what the Ten Rings are trying to do… is not in any way balanced,” Yinsen says with a tired smile. Tony studies him and can’t seem to figure him out so he gives in to his body and tries to ease his guard just a little.   
  
  
Its as if gravity tripled on Tony. He felt like he was about to implode.   
Tony looks down to his chest and sees a thick red line of healing tissue straight down his chest like open-heart surgery patients. Werewolves heal quickly, and to be honest Omegas heal much quicker than Alphas and Betas. It has something to do with childbirth- Tony doesn’t remember. The only times he had thanked his Omega healing was whenever he had a hangover. They must have cut his chest open and embedded the silver in his heart- and the healing must have slowed due to the silver.   
  
    “Why did they put silver in my chest?” Tony asked.  
  
    “Why not? They are sadists who hate all things other born. Why wouldn’t they? They need no reason other than the fact you were born as something else.”  
  
Tony looked at the man and then back down at his chest.  
  
    “They know if that thing shifts and it pierces my heart… I’m dead.”      
  
    “Yes. They know- I think that is why they brought me in,” Yinsen informs. Tony shoots back towards Yinsen, who waves his hands as if saying ‘Don’t be mad!’  
  
    “I am a doctor by trade. I make prosthetics for patients- lost limbs, damaged organs, making metal limbs for patients and if lucky, inverting them back into bones... in fact you know we have met once- though I doubt you remember, you were drunk out of your mind. How you gave that lecture on your nano bio-tech I have no idea, but you did,” Yinsen said chuckling at the memory, “But one of things I specialize in is open heart surgery relating to alchemy prosthetics.”  
  
    “You’re telling me there is a silver prosthetic in my heart?”  
  
    “Wrapped around actually. They simply wanted to crudely pierce the bar like an ear ring- but I told them you’d die before you do anything they want to do.”  
  
    “I’m not going to do anything they want to do.”  
  
    “You might want to reconsider, Stark. They will kill you,” Yinsen says for the first time in a grim and dark tone.  
  
    Tony stares at the man and with confidence says, “Then they kill me.”  
  
Yinsen and Tony stare at each other. Tony decides that Yinsen is staring at Tony as if to figure him out. After a few moments however, Yinsen sighs and looks at Tony exasperatedly. Tony figures Yinsen has given up on trying to figure him out. Tony doesn’t blame him, how could a stranger figure him out when he doesn’t even know who he is.   
  
  
Just as the thought finished the lights all flickered on at the same time, burning Tony’s eyes and blinding him. Tony gave a sharp gasp and tried to lift his arms to cover his eyes, but as soon as he tried to move a sharp panicking pain struck through his chest. Instead he turned his head with a painful moan to avert from the light as much as he could.  
  
    “Ah, joined the living have you, Mr. Stark?” The voice is dark and husky. Tony’s nose picked up a light whiff of cigar, as heard a group of boots hitting the wet concrete floor.   
  
As the footsteps became louder so did the scent of the cigar. He hears a screech of metal from Yinsen’s stool. A sudden scent of panic expels from Yinsen; which only makes it all the worse for Tony.  
  
    “He’s awake but still incredibly weak. I think we should leave him be for the rest of the night,” Yinsen starts but the heavy austere footsteps only get quicker in strides and come to a loud stop besides tony. Tony winces as he opens his eyes, but he can only manage to open his eyes to mere slits. He sees a blurry image of a man, darkened by the lights behind him, Tony can’t make out his face, but he can tell the man is bald and from his voice probably has a ridiculously ugly smirk that Tony wishes he could punch off.  
  
    “He does not need to talk much,” the kidnapper told Yinsen. From the corner of his eyes he can see him and after a moment steps back and lets the man stand where he stood.    
  
Tony can hear the man grin wider and feels sick. The man leans down to Tony’s ear,  
    “Mr. Stark.”  
  
Tony grunts a little, “Who the hell are you?”  
  
    “A well let us just say that I am a part of an…  interested party . I want you to build me something.”   
Tony closes his eyes, he feels the relief, the burning sensation eases away from his eyes. Tony scoffs at the man and says:  
  
    “Yea? Well take a number, buddy- you and the rest of the world wants me to build  something .”  
  
The man leans down even closer towards Tony, and takes a long sniff of Tony. Tony’s body stiffens and suddenly a new set of terrors starts to sink in.  
  
    “Ah… did your heat just pass, Mr. Stark? Pity- I could have persuaded you in a different way. Amazing however, though I hold the highest hatred towards other borns, I have always found the fact that an omega wolf can even be scented by humans, so very interesting. Its just another example how other borns seem to affect humans in ways we cannot even begin to comprehend. Tell me, Mr. Stark. does it still ache? The stirring? Tell me- do you still have the  longing ?”  
  
    “Back. Off,” Tony growled out. His eyes must have gleamed because the man stares into them with great interest. After a moment the man laughs in the most cynical way Tony has ever heard. The man then leans away from Tony but not without a smug smirk on his face. Tony tries to take a few personal moments and takes in a few long breathes- but he can feel his chest rises rapidly, up and down, up and down- making him realize that he must not be taking in deep breathes at all, but rather close to hyperventilating.   
  
The idea makes Tony want to sink his teeth into something and just tear.   
He is a wolf after all.   
  
Tony quickly changes the topic.   
  
    “What… what do you want me to build?”  
  
    “A cage.”  
  
    “For?”  
  
    “A wolf. An Alpha.”  
  
Tony scoffs.  
  
    “Then you’ve picked the wrong engineer for that job. There is no metal in the world strong enough to keep an Alpha wolf. The only metal is silver and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I can’t work with silver.”  
  
    “That is why the good Doctor Yinsen is here to assist you. Well, that and to place the silver in your heart.”  
  
Tony doesn’t reply to that comment.   
  
    “And after I make the cage?”  
  
    “Then you get to go back home,” the man says with blasé ease.  
  


‘Liar,’  Tony thinks  ‘a god damn liar.’

  
Tony looks at the man straight in the eye. The big man looks down on him, his eyes are filled with a sharp look that Tony was too familiar with.   
  
    “Do I disgust you?” Tony whispered. He could feel Yinsen’s body tense for him. Tony would have tensed too if he had the strength to do so.  
  
The man sneers at him, “Of course. You are unnatural.”  
  
    “And you feel that it’s your job to rid the world of the  unnatural ?”  
  
    “If not I then who?”  
  
Tony can’t help but to scoff which does not make the man all too happy.   
  
    “You’re just another jackass who has an inferiority complex from the idiot farm filled too much self arrogance and justification. You’re just another one from the barrel of disregarded moldy apples, buddy.”  
  
The man’s face slowly starts to turn purple with each word Tony speaks.  
  
    “Is  that your final answer, Mr. Stark?”  
  
    “My final answer is no. I will not build you jack shit.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It started with this tang of restlessness.  
It wasn’t strictly a painful sensation but... something else.  
  
It prodded at Steve’s wolf and then prodded it some more till Steve couldn’t keep still.  
  
Something. Something deep down in the wolf – something just wouldn’t let him rest, kept pushing him, pushing him to hit harder, to grab more, to bite, and tear and hurt. He didn’t want this. He wanted to be the Steve that he knew that he was inside. The big heart. The little guy. Not this… thing.   
  
But its been just way too long ago...   
  
It’s 2am and Steve is where he always is at two in the morning. Beating the shit out of some unsuspecting punching bag. It’s the only way to keep the itch down. The crawling feeling under his skin that tears at him, that just wouldn’t let him rest. It wouldn’t allow him the sleep he craved, the solitude and welcome respite of unconsciousness.  
  
This itch... it wanted, wanted the power, control, and the protection that it offers. To Steve, this only made it worse. It was like the thorn was left in his side too long and was starting to go septic. Maybe that is what it was.  
  
It was starting to infect him... fester and pour out poisonous puss...  
  
Steve pounds his fist into the punching bag, his eyes tightening into a sharp cold blue as he glares at nothing in particular. He clenches his fists tighter and even though he has layers of boxing tape on, he feels his blunt nails starting to dig in.   
  
The gym is filled with nothing but the sound of his breathe and grunts as he batters the punching bag, but Steve hears much more.   
  
He hears the sound of blood pumping in his veins and how they flush their way into his heart. The increased tempo of his heart beat and the small grind of his teeth...and... a scream.   
  
Its not his own- its not a fragment of his nightmares- its not even a memory...  
  
But it aches- and it stirs. Yes, stirs... the wolf is uneasy. The prodding sensations have been becoming harder to ignore throughout the week. This is not an itch, this, this thing he’s currently feeling is nothing Steve’s ever felt before. Its something new and neither Steve and his wolf quite like it.  
  
In the back of his head he hears another cry and he can feel heat, blood scorching heat behind his eyes which makes his head hurt. It makes his whole body was like a string being wounded up- straight with high tension and taunt and when plucked the pitch becomes higher and more discordant and unfriendly.  
  
Steve draws back his arm, takes all his strength and puts his best foot forward and punches the punching bag as hard as he could- as if he could get this sensation to go away; but all it accomplishes is the punching bag to rip and fly away leaving a trail of sand.   
  
Steve pants and stares at the damage and realizes destroying the punching bag has actually accomplished nothing. It has only created a giant mess in his gym and a sore fist, which he welcomes gladly. He sighs at himself  and runs his hand through his wet hair and decided to call it a night with the gym and head to the showers.  
  
Steve tears the end of his boxing tape with his teeth and starts to unwrap as he starts to make his way out of the gym and up one story to his bedroom.   
  
Well he calls it a bedroom, not that he uses the bed much these days. Its been about a week since Steve’s had proper sleep... not that he sleeps most nights.  
  
Steve enters his room and for a moment studies his undisturbed bed. He looks at the outlines of the window pane made by the moonlight streaming. Steve lives in a quiet neighborhood in Brooklyn Heights. His neighbors think he’s a some kind of business man, stock broker who works in Manhattan, which isn’t a total lie. Many of his business meets and transactions takes place in Manhattan and Steve did run a small  business consulting  firm in Manhattan. The area is quiet and homey, and Steve Rogers the man fits in quiet nicely here. Not that he’s in his apartment loft often.  
  
This place was his safe place. This is where Steve goes to strip away the mask he has to wear and wash away the blood and dirt off his hands.   
  
This was  his  place.   
This was a place that reminded him that he’s not only what he had become, he was more... deep inside... somewhere...  
  
  
He reaches the back of his plain white shirt and pulls it over his head. The shirt is thin, well worn and damp. He takes the boxing tape and balls them up together and blindly tosses both the shirt and the tape in the direction of pamper and doesn’t see if it had landed. He pads his way into his bathroom- and doesn’t bother with the lights. He strips the rest of his clothes and steps into the shower.  
  
Steve sets the water to the hottest setting that they have. Once the water is up to temperature, Steve just stands under the spray and breathes.   
  
“Remember Steven...”  blood in his mouth, calm cool hands in his fur.  
    “You don’t know do you?”  evil snarling at him, mocking him.   
    “What matters is now”  beautiful full red lips, sad words but with a smile.

“We have to make what we are- no one and nothing simply is...”  clear, dark, sharp eyes, calming and honest voice, speaking words he did not want to hear but had to endure...

  
Memories rise up against Steve.  
It if it is not the wolf that constantly pushes against Steve, it is the flood of memories that try to drown him. That’s why the last thing Steve needs at this point is this new sensation taking over him.   
  
The last thing he needs is a new problem.  
  
The fact he hasn’t been sleeping doesn’t help the fact that Steve hates his job – but he keeps the numbers adding up, makes sure everything is working smoothly, like clockwork, smooth with oil, because that is his job. He is the Alpha- he’s got to protect everyone. Everyone.  
  
Steve opens his eyes, his supernatural eyes quickly adjusts in the dark and as he blinks there is quick shutter of that supernatural glow in his eyes. He rubs them tiredly and finishes rinsing himself off.   
  
Half an hour later Steve finds himself in his office room across his bedroom, dressed in comfortable lounging pants and a plain white shirt. Steve sighs as he throws himself into the leather wing back at his desk. He honestly wants to anything but do his  business papers mans and up and bites his lips and does them; because he he has too. He pulls a random file that Natasha had left for him. It’s organised meticulously, like everything she does, and it makes that itch in the back of his head want to fuck it up, mess abou t with all that  order,  for no reason other than he wants to mess it up.   
  
He silently chuckles and reminds himself he’s not a child any more.   
  
  
  
The label simply says, ‘Pharmaceutical’.  
Steve looks blankly at the word. Pharmaceutical. He looks at the word and what it stands for.  
  
Pharmaceutical, drug sales.  
  
The blonde scoffs and continues flip the pages reading the clean calculations Natasha has made and highlighted figures of which drug is on the streets and which is being sold the most.  
  
Its 2 in the morning and Steve’s in library den looking over the number of  documents listed with seemingly meaningless numbers and names.  
  
Steve hates that he has to be a part of something like this.  
Growing up he’s seen what drugs had done to his neighbors and drug dealers in the corner streets being a bully…  
  
  
                                   ‘You think you have what it takes?  
                                   All things reap what they sow  
                                   Are you ready for your pension?  
                                   Are you ready to embrace the monster?”  
  
  
A ghost whispers condescendingly in Steve’s ear. That was the curse with memories, Steve supposes. They haunt you even when you’re awake.  
  
There is a distant buzzing noise at the back of his head- like a fly trapped in between two window glasses, ricocheting back and forth between the two, making hollow knocking noises till there is a sharp shooting pain in between Steve’s eyes. The man pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes tighter.   
  
    ‘ There’s that pull again ’ he tells himself as if he was speaking to someone else and starts to dimly become aware that he probably wasn’t going to get any more work done tonight.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Virgina “Pepper” Potts. Born on September 5th, Virgo, allergic to strawberries. New York native, graduated with undergrads from Columbia University with an MBLA and top her class. Interned for a year as a junior researcher at the Library of Congress and returned to Columbia University for a Masters in Corporate business. After having several offers from major Lobbist groups, Virigina “Pepper” Potts kindly declined all offers and decided to answer to a Personal Assistant position to one Anthony E. Stark.  
  
Because Pepper was Pepper. She was jaded with the world. Bored and didn’t have the drive or the need to climb to the top of the world. She hears rumors about a job no one wanted and yet at the same time a job where every one wanted. The position of Anthony Stark’s P.A.. The rumor was that he was a horrible boss, went through P.A.’s like tissue paper to wipe his ass and just toss them.   
  
So Pepper, being Pepper took this as a challenge. She could have done anything, but because she’s stubborn and she’s loved nothing more than a opposition, so she chose to become a Personal Assistant to one of the most powerful and wealthiest man in America.   
  
Not only a wealthy and powerful man, but a wolf.   
  
So when she walked into the impressive office 9 years ago and saw the man who was just over a couple of years older than herself, and as soon as she sees him her expectations of a powerful spoiled man sitting at the top of the world breaks into nothing but an illusion.   
  
Because what she saw wasn’t a man who took everything for granted and then some, but a man who sat in a thousand dollar heavy leather bound chair, as if it was a throne and at the time looked so small, uncomfortable and out of place.   
  
This was not the man Pepper had been expecting- not the cool, cocky expectations she had read in the papers or magazine.  
  
He was not a god like being she had imagined.  
  


‘ Let every man be respected as an individual and no man idolized. ’ she had thought.

  
Even with the beautiful, stunning panoramic view of Manhattan’s skyline, even though he was practically and quiet literally sitting at the top of the world he seemed to look as if he wanted to escape. This was not a throne room for Tony Stark this was a prison.  
  
Maybe it was because Pepper was an empath - even though she didn’t level high enough to register as an other born, she still felt emotions running deep and there she felt an empty and hollow man, as he sat on top of one of the most capitalistic cities in the world, in a thousand dollar suit and a billion dollar grin- it was nothing more than...  
  
  
    “Ms. Potts?”  
  
Pepper broke out of her revere and snapped her attention back to the man now standing up from his desk and gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.   
  
    “Oh,” Pepper flushed for just a moment before she recovered and placed back her determination and professionalism into place.   
  
    “Mr. Stark,” She greeted as she places her hand out to shake his. He smiled back and shook hers and gestured again for her to sit. She smiled and accepted the seat. Tony too sat in his seat and leaned back into his chair, the recline spring bouncing him back and forth slightly as he studies her with a curious eye and a never fading grin. He places his finger laced hand on top of his stomach and says,   
  
    “You’re hired.”  
  
Pepper shocked found nothing else to say other than, “What?”  
  
    “You’re hired. You want this job right? I mean, I’m just assuming- you’re here- this is a job interview- you’re pretty- I like seeing pretty things...”  
  
    “You haven’t even interviewed me!”  
  
Tony gave her a knowing look and an amused smile that make her pull back a little.   
    “Ms. Potts, you are way too over qualified for this job. Why would you be here if you didn’t want this job and I mean  really want this job.”  
  
Pepper opened her mouth, not knowing exactly what to say.  
    ‘ When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain ’ Pepper thinks.  
  
    “I want this job.”  
  
    “That’s what I thought. I guess i should at least ask why do you want this job.”  
  
    “Because I like a challenge and I heard you’re a pain in the ass,” Pepper says bluntly, a slight flush rises to her cheeks- she ignores them and then clears her throat and tilts her chin up. Tony Stark stares at her and laughs- the grin disappears and turns into something...  
  
The love of heaven makes on heavenly...  
  
He finishes laughing and sits straight, leaning on his desk and smiles openly at her,   
  
    “When can you start?”      
  
    “What would you like for me to do, Mr. Stark?”  
  
    “Well you can tell the other applicants that the positions been filled.”  
  
    “I can do that for you, Mr. Stark,” Pepper says as she stands up and flattens the front of her skirt, “Is there anything else, Mr. Stark?”  
  
  
What Tony did next was what made Virginia “Pepper” Potts realize that what she had just stumbled her self into was not just a challenge for her to mark in her resume- or her personal agenda book of accomplishments. She had stumbled onto a man who needed someone like her. Found a man who had everything he could want and had nothing he’s ever needed.   
  
A man who needed her help.  
  
A man who smothered himself in metal but wanted to do nothing but run free-  wore his grin and character flaws like an armour and held his head high when every bit of his body wanted to curl and bury it self away. She found and felt emotions of a man who, if he wanted, could change the world- change everything...  
  
She felt and she fell- she had never felt someone so deep and complicated and...  
  
    “No,” He had told her with a smile that started to morph back into a stiff grin and eyes twinkling a flutter of moon beam, he gave her a kind smile and turned his gaze away, “That is all Ms. Potts.”   
  
    ‘ Would I were with him, wheresome’er he is, either in heaven or in hell. ’  
  
9 years ago, within the first ten minutes of meeting the man, Pepper had decided that she was going to stand by this man because nothing could compare to what and who Tony Stark was.   
  
Empty, hollow, sad and lonely; filled with character flaws, yes. All yes. Yes to all above.  
However he was so much more as well.   
  
He was like a deep well with so much potential. He could be filled and filled and filled with so many beautiful things. He could be so much- and that drew Pepper to stay.   
After 9 years she was still there, next to Tony Stark because she still believes in the man...  
  
She had resiliently stayed with Tony Stark even when he had pushed her away.   
  
All the board meetings he was late to, and all the signatures she’s had to bully Tony into signing, and all the could have been scandals- and all the one night stands she had to clear away, and the hormone suppressants. Even taking care of Tony when he would lock himself up in his Malibu home gym when he would get into his abnormally scheduled heats- petting his fur after he had shifted into his wolf form because staying in his human form was just too much.   
  
She had stayed after all the drunk nights and hung over mornings-   
  
She had stayed through the uncomfortable and awkward sexual tension and the wonderful dinner dates after both of them were tired of dancing around each other.  
  
She had stayed even after their heart breaking realization they were just not compatible and nature had not created them to fit together physically the way their did in every other way.   
  
She stayed with him because he’s the only one she’s got, and she’s the only one he’s got.   
She stayed because even though they were no longer lovers, they loved each other- and nothing- no nature, no politics, no hung over mornings and late board meetings and drunken partying could break that.   
  
She stayed because she knew and believes in Tony Stark.   
  
She  now  stays in the SHIELD conference room, patiently waiting for Director Fury. The skin next to her right thumb is torn and hang nails are the only thing that mars her perfectly manicured hands. Its a nervous habit of hers. She tries not to tap her designer heels against the floor and tries to keep the cool and level headed professionalism she prided herself in.   
  
But this was Tony.   
  
  
Its been nearly a month now. There was no news and the board members are now starting to vulture around in fear and wanting to quickly resolve Tony’s estates. Obidiah too was also no help. She never enjoyed the vibe the man gave off-   
  
People were starting to give up on Tony... which was simply not acceptable.   
  
Pepper walked into SHIELD and demanded a meeting with Director Fury. She was told he was busy and doing all he could but no, she told the receptionist, Clara kindly with but with sharp eyes. She will wait as long as if took to meet Director Fury.   
  
So she now waits, she feels helpless, but she waits because for the time being this is all she could do.   
  
  
The conference room opens. Pepper looks up and finds not Director Fury but a Caucasian man in a standard black suit. He had short dark hair neatly swept to the side, and though his eyes were of a man whose had too many things haunting him, he had a kind smile and gave Pepper a gentle smile.  
  
    “Ms. Potts, I’m Agent Phil Coulson.”  
  
Pepper stands and walks to Phil who fully enters the room and closes the door behind him.   
  
    “Hello, Agent Coulson,” she said as she reached to shake his hand. He smiles again kindly and takes her hand and shakes it.   
  
    “I’m so sorry that you had to wait. We are currently a bit understaffed and Director Fury has been called out to Brooklyn for a meeting.”  
  
Pepper smiles kindly, “I understand, however its been nearly a month now. Stark Industries are worried, to be honest, Agent Coulson, Tony’s not just my employer he’s also one of my best friends. This is personal for me.”  
  
    “I understand that you are worried...”  
  
    “Tony Stark is an Omega,” Pepper cuts in. Coulson stares at Pepper. His smile falls. “The night he was taken, he was going through a intense treatment of heat suppressants. Now I don’t need to spell out for you why I am so concerned that we find him as soon as possible.”  
  
Agent Coulson takes a moment and then says, “This information wasn’t in his file.”  
  
    “Its not something many people know. As far as the public is concerned Tony Stark is a high Beta. And also so that we are clear, Agent Coulson,” Pepper says as she reaches into her purse and draws out a portfolio and hands it to Agent Coulson who takes it off her hands and immediately opens to read it, “ So that we are clear, have Director Fury sign his so that this conversation we just had about Tony Stark’s status is to be kept confidential.”  
  
    “This is a confidentiality clause.”  
  
    “Yes, it is. Please have Director Fury sign it by the end of today,” Pepper states rather than asks.   
  
Coulson stares at Pepper and nods. “I’ll make sure that I personally hand this to him and personally send it back to you Ms. Potts.”      
  
    “Thank you, Agent Coulson. Now you said something about being understaffed?”  
  
    “Our branch is not something that attracts many people- most of our staff and agents are currently in the field- there is not many who are at head quarters at the-”  
  
    “I will help.”  
  
    “Excuse me?”  
  
    “Anything to bring Tony home as soon as possible.”  
  
    “Ms. Potts  I don’t think there is much...”  
  
Before Coulson can finish Pepper reaches simply into her purse and brings out a bundle of files. 

“This is a dossier of The Ten Rings. The main leaders and their affiliates. The blue folder has their activities in chronological order, the red one is their activities in method of terrorism. The fifth packet has the name and list and summaries of  the Ring’s leaders and I know for a fact that most of these information is not something you have on file- seeing that I have read your files and have re-summaries them for maximum efficiency, which is placed in the yellow folder,” Pepper says with a smile. 

  
Agent Coulson stares at her blankly. Pepper couldn’t read the man so she gave him a dazzling smile and added,  
  
    “I was not hired by Mr. Stark because I look pretty in a pencil skirt, Agent Coulson. I am very,  very   good at my job. Now can I safely assume that I could use this room to step up? I have several things Mr. Stark’s driver, Happy needs to bring up and set up an area I could work.”  
  
  
Agent Coulson stares at Pepper and then back to his hands where he held the handed folders. He opens one and flips through sees the immaculate report. He looks back to Pepper and smile.  
  
    “Could I get you a coffee while you start, Ms. Potts?” he asks.  
She smiles back at Agent Coulson.  
  
    “Oh you and I are going to get alone, fabulously.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Steve hates wearing suits. He’s a simple kind of man... well... simple as any mob boss can get. He prefers wearing nice knitted sweaters with worn jeans and wool socks rather than the 3 layered suit he’s currently donning; but this is a  business meeting.   
  
Natasha insists on them.   
  
    “Fury’s agreed to a meeting later tonight,” Steve hears Natasha across from him in the town car currently crossing the bridge to head into Manhattan. Steve randomly notes that the traffic not too heavy for the hour. Steve turns his gaze from the window to Natasha. She sat their calmly as ever. Dark red hair just a flirt away from her shoulders. She wore a simple black dress with long sleeves. She always wore black, as if every day was a funeral.   
  
He had told so her that many years ago. It was one of the few times Natasha had laughed so freely. It was beautiful but at the same time... so eerie. It had reminded Steve of winds singing in and through a snow storm. Cold yet beautiful... it had suited her well.   
  
    “He’s taken his time to answer.”  
  
    “They are apparently,  understaffed ,” Natasha replies with amusement in her voice. Steve raises a brow and couldn’t help but to also raise a corner of his lips.   
  
    “Did he try to give you back your old job?” he asked her while picking off imaginary lint off his dark blue suit pants.   
  
    “He did,” She answered. Steve looks up at her and saw her smile.   
  
    “How many times do you think you’ll break his heart by declining?”   
  
    “That’s entirely up to him. He is the one who keeps asking.”  
  
    “Fools can dream, I suppose,” Steve says with a small chuckle and returns back to watching the Hudson out from his window. Natasha hums in agreement.  
  
There is a moment of silence between them, it is not an uncomfortable silence, but Steve feels uneasy. His shoulders stiffen involuntarily.  
  
Something stirred and something prodded. The wolf whines against the subtle pull.  
  
  


“How are you doing, Steven?”

Steve flicks his gaze to Natasha. Her smile does not grace her face. Her eyes are sharp and clear, Steve can tell she is reading him. She knows something, but then again, she  always knows something. He could ask her, but he knows she won’t answer.   
  


“Fine.”

 

“ Fine ,” she echos. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Lies.”

  
Steve’s wolf growls at Natasha, but Steve takes nothing by it.   
  


“I must remind you that I frequent your home often. Your bed has been undisturbed for several weeks now.”

 

“Nothing new.”

  
Steve says holding his eyes with Natasha’s. She says nothing, then after a moment she blinks and smiles slowly.   
  


“Yes. Must be nothing new.”

  
  
  
Steve looks away and back out the window. This was a simple supply run. Check the drug supplies- make sure everything was in order and head over to a neutral location to meet Fury. Steve disliked working with his drug supplier, but Natasha had insured Steve that out of all the drug suppliers in New York, Murkov’s drugs were clean as drugs could get. He does not lace or cut his drugs, he was a purist.   
  
Its impossible to take drugs off the streets- and its impossible to have a world where there are no  bad guys . Steve things that he might as well be the lesser evil.  
  
  
Natasha and Steve find themselves sharing comfortable silence.   
  
The first time he’s met Natasha, she held Steve by the jaw when he was a wolf. Made him stare at her straight in the eyes.   
  
She had found him when Steve had been at his lowest, and she brought him out of the dark to face his demons. Well, some of his demons. He trusts her even when he can’t trust himself.   
  
    “Do not think so hard, Steven,” She says. She calls him by his full name when she’s amused. It makes Steve feel like a child, but compared to her- he might as well be...  
  
Roughly a half an hour later they town car stops in front of warehouse. Steve opens the door and exits and holds the door for Natasha.   
  
Steve buttons his unbutton suit jacket as he walks to the entrance where Murkov is standing there to greet them.   
  
Murkov is a middle aged, tall, lanky, and oh so stereotypically Russian. He speaks in broken Russian sometimes when he is too excited where Natasha has to fill in Steve. He always offers a glass of his favorite Vodka. He also gushes over Natasha, always tries hard for her even though he knows he’s just another poor bastard who is completely entranced by Natasha Romanov.  
  
Murkov shakes Steve’s hand first- with two hands.  
  
    “Meester Rodgers,” He says with his thick accent, “Always such a pleasure to meet you.” Then he turns to Natasha who has readied a charming, and coy smile and gasps. He says something in Russian which is no doubt some compliment of her beauty and opens his arms.  
  
    “ Soinyshko moyo! My sun, Madame Romanov,” Murkov says as he takes Natasha’s hand which she gives freely. He kisses her knuckles soundly and gives her a smile.   
  
    “You are ever so radiant, how do you walk amongst us mortal men, Madame Romanov?”  
  
Natasha gives him a coquettish laugh Steve knows she reserves for business meetings, “Oh, it is not so hard when I know men such as you walk this mortal plane, Murkov.”   
  
Murkov sputters and blushes then he kisses Natasha’s knuckles again.  
  
    “You are too wonderful-  Ti kravslvaya! ”  
  
Natasha gives the man another round of laughter then says, “I have herd that you have finished with this quarter’s supply, Murkov. You always work so hard for us.” She says.   
  
    “Ah yes, yes! Please come-” Murkov says as he motions Natasha and Steve into the warehouse but before they could take another step in Steve scents something, but Steve could hardly call it a scent, it was more closer to a stench.  
  
The three halt at the sound of a clash. It came from the left of them, between the alley way of Murkov’s warehouses.   
  
    “It’s a wolf,” Steve says, his eyes flashing a pale gleam. The wolf inside him stirs excitedly-something to bite.  
  
The clashes become louder and more violent then silence. Steve slides Natasha behind him, not because he thinks she can’t protect herself, but because he needs this.   
  
He needs to make something bleed.   
  
  
There’s a moment of complete stillness- but Steve’s an experienced wolf. He’s an Alpha- he knows the single moment right before the other wolf jumps out of the alley way. Steve moves- fast- drawing back a fist and punching the wolf right at the throat as it jumps out of the alleyway before it even gets a chance.   
  
The wolf falls right down and skids back. Steve get a looks at the wolf. He’s big.   
Bigger than Steve. Steve eyes its opponent who has already shifted into wolf form, but something is wrong... the wolf smells all wrong.   
  
The wolf shakes for a moment and struggles to stand. Steve patiently waits for the wolf to makes it onto all fours again. He shakes himself and stares at Steve. Steve stares back at the wolf, and sees the gleam in his opponent's eyes and sees that it is not the same shade of pale moonlight that wolves have- it is a sickly bright green, unnatural and angry. So angry- as if... as if it was in  rejection.  
  
The idea of  rejection catches Steve off guard. Rejection could only mean one thing; that this person was bitten and bitten without consent.   
  
Such actions were not only illegal, but a taboo.   
The wolf inside Steve shrinks away, his appetite to make something bleed fading quickly and and doubling in its need to protect and cater. Its moments like these that Steve feels maybe not is all at lost within himself. That he still has a code and a philosophy he lives by. No matter how bad it gets, he can still remain a good person.  
  
Steve and his wolf stills and waits.  
  
The other wolf senses Steve’s sudden hesitation and takes advantage of it as he darts towards Steve. His jaw is wide- enough to maul Steve in half, but even without shifting Steve is stronger and faster. Steve grips the other wolf’s jaw by the teeth. The sharp teeth digs into Steve’s palms.  
  
Steve’s contender snarls at Steve as Steve keeps his jaws open wide. They sway together momentarily before the Alpha uses the momentum of his opponent’s moment and slams him down, face first. Before the wolf can get back up again Steve presses the other wolf down by the throat. The wolf snaps and snarls at Steve, but Steve forces the wolf to stare at Steve.   
  
    “Look at me,” Steve commands.   
  
The wolf does not obey, it continues to thrash and claw at Steve. Steve ignores the tearing of his suit and the cuts being made by the wolf’s hind legs in attempts to excape Steve’s grip.  
  
    “Look. At. Me!” Steve commands again, but this time in his Alpha voice. It echos out as if it was more than one voice speaking at once in an empty cave, filtering out into an eerie command.   
  
The wolf halts automatically and stares at Steve with its toxic green eyes. Its wide and full of too many emotions, but Steve can identify pain when he sees it.   
  
Mentally Steve swears, just the thought of an non-consensual bite and rejection makes the Alpha in him want to howl and throw himself against something. No wolf could stand to watch another wolf go through rejection- it was instinct for them; like a mother to her babe no wolf could stand the sight of a wolf rejecting itself.  
  
    “Calm,” Steve commands and the wolf’s breathing starts to slow - confusion fills the other wolf’s eyes.  
  
    “Calm, I don’t want to hurt you,” Steve repeats a bit more gently, no longer using the voice. The wolf now whines at him. Steve looks over to Natasha who has a grim expression on her face. Steve nods at her, and she comes closer and kneels down next to Steve.   
  
She looks at the wolf Steve has by the throat, she raises her hand and pets the wolf between the eyes. The wolf whines and lets out a mournful howl.  
  
    “Shh,” she sooths and lays the wolf’s colossal head on her lap. The wolf tries to resist but Natasha presses her thumb against the center of the wolf’s head. Within seconds the wolf gives out a whine and falls asleep. Natasha continues petting and looks up to Steve who looks at her with an equally grim expression on his face.  
  
    “Murkov,” he calls out.   
  
    “Y-yes, Meester Rodgers,” Murkov stutters from behind him.   
  
    “I’m afraid we have to rearrange our meeting,” Steve says as he lets go of the wolf’s throat, stands and turns to the Russian.   
  
    “Of-of course!”   
  
Steve nods at him and then turns back to the wolf lying on the floor.   
The  massive wolf lying on the floor.  
  
Natasha continues to pet the dark black fur, so dark that it shined dark green as she hums a slow song to the wolf. She looks to Steve as she continues to sooth the wolf on her lap.  
  
    “I think you need to call Fury and tell him that we have another problem on our hands.”  
  
Natasha doesn’t stop humming, but nods in agreement.   
Steve sighs tiredly. He pulls out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wipes the blood on his hand. The wound on his palms already have started to close. After he finishes cleaning his hands, he reaches into his suit jacket and takes out his phone and presses 3 till the phones starts to dial.  
  
    “Yea, boss,” the phone greets.  
  
    “I need you to drop everything and bring your team and a transport truck to Murkov’s.”  
  
    “What’s going on, boss?”  
  
    “We’ve got a stray.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note:
> 
> All background information about Pep is fiction. I tried to research about her background but nothing was given. If anyone has any more information about please feel free to email me so that in the future i can use this information. Thank you!
> 
> quote: “Let every man be respected as an individual and no man idolized.’ is quoted by Albert Einstein.
> 
> quotes: “When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain”  
> “ The love of heaven makes on heavenly”  
> “ Would I were with him, wheresome’er he is, either in heaven or in hell.”  
> all quotes from Henry the V, by William Shakespeare.
> 
>  
> 
> please no Pepper bashing- Pepper is pretty awesome, no matter how she was portrayed in Iron Man 2.


	3. part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so very sorry for the delay. in truth, i had written this part months back, but i was never happy with its outcome. i had rewritten it many times and a part of me felt like i wanted to get rid of all together but then i realized no matter how unhappy i was with the way i had written it, it was necessary for the story to continue. so i manned up and put my back into and got it written again. 
> 
> sorry for the delay and i hope you all still enjoy it. thank you.

The wolves run New York City and any one who cannot run as fast as the wolves or bite as hard as the wolves were simply left to be ruled by the iron jaws of the wolves.    
  
This has always been the way of New York City.   
  
Always.   
  
  
  
When Steve was a child so many years ago, there was a pack of the name, the Hydra. Their leader was a wolf of the name Schmidt but he was often referred to as the Red Skull.   
  
Schmidt and his pack ran the whole of New York with brute force, and brute cruelty. New York was a breeding ground of crime and oppression, and at its throne sat Schmidt as its crowned tyrant and his hoard of Alphas his corrupted knights.

  
There were many times while growing where Steve thought it might have been just a little bit easier if he was born a beta- maybe then the other kids at school would stop bullying him, calling him the runt of the litter; but Steve worked with what he had- he accepted no matter how small or weak or flawed his body was, he was an alpha. Therefore he had to be someone too kept his stance and kept standing.

  
When Steve was ten his Nana died; and he was taken in by an friend of Nana’s. A vampire by the name Abraham Erskine.

“Call me, Brahm,” he had told 11-year-old Steve in the cab ride to Erskine’s home in Queens after his Nana’s funeral.

  
Steve remembers looking up at the older man. Brahm was a sanguinarian; a vampire. Steve didn’t know much about sanguinarians. He only knew to what the other children had said about Susan Miller and her family; how they sleep upside down and drink humans until they are nothing but skin and bone. Steve worried that Brahm would some how make Steve conform to a sanguinarian life style. He didn’t want to loose his wolf traits and he definitely didn’t want to drink human blood for dinner.   
  
The older man had looked down at Steve and gave him a warm smile. The smile surprised Steve making him swallow hard and grip his toy bear tighter.   
  
    “You have nothing to worry, Steven,” Brahm said. Steve finds the way Brahm says his name quiet odd- his words didn’t sound like any accent he had heard before. Ten- year-old Steve briefly wondered if it was the sanguinarian’s teeth that caused him to speak oddly.  
  
Steve still looks up at the man, notes that his hair is silvery and gray and his short beard matched the hair on his head. He wore round glasses, rimmed with a thin gold frame which reminded Steve of his Nana’s own glasses.   
  
The street light hits Brahm’s face rhythmically- and whenever the light shines against the man’s eyes there would be a brief flicker of red in his pupil.   
  
Vampire’s eye.  
  
Steve quickly looks away and buried his head on top of his bear’s head.   
  
He’s scared. He’s so alone. He’s never been so alone. .   
  
    “Steven?”  
  
    “Are you going to eat me?” Steve asks his query muffled against the fluff of his teddy bear.   
  
There is a moment of silence. Steve clamps his eyes tightly shut, he fears the answer. What he doesn’t expect to hear is a hearty laugh.   
  
    “Is this what has been worrying you?” Brahm asks in between laughs. Steve snaps his head up, his face heating up.  
  
    “It- It’s a serious question!”  
  
Brahm leaned into his seat, wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes.   
  
    “Yes. Yes it is, Steven. An excellent query,” he said as he leans down towards Steve. Steve wants to flinch away but then reminds himself even though he was not an _Alpha_ he was an alpha and alpha stood their grounds.  
  
    “The answer, Steven is that I am not going to eat you. You would make me sick, Steven! Wolf’s blood inside a Vampire? Pshhhaa-“ the vampire exasperates, “It would be a terrible, a very terrible stomach ache. Vampires only drink human or animal blood, and we must always ask before we drink from a human. Do you think that asking someone is the polite thing to do?”

Brahm’s words sink into Steve and automatically he feels better.   
  
    “Do I have to sleep upside down or in a coffin??”  
  
    “Upside down? Coffin? Why? Would you like one?” Brahm asks with a smile. A small chuckle from the driver who overhears their conversation comes from the front seat. Steven ignores it and his head violently.   
  
    “Well I wouldn’t like one either. It is much too old fashioned and I enjoy the comfort of a mattress much better. In fact, Steven, I have a lovely bed at home- with a lovely wool afghan that Mrs. Lowery had knitted for me 3 winters back. She’s a reader by trade. Do not let her take you into her house. She does not stop talking- she goes on for hours and hours, but sometimes she makes these wonderful biscuits and it is almost worth it.”  
  
Steve stares at the vampire and slowly his fears dissipate.   
  
    “How do you know my Nana?”  
  
    “Oh your Nana, Steven- beautiful woman, your Nana,” Brahm said. Steve can see that the vampire is smiling but for some reason it doesn’t look happy at all.   
  
    “I met your Nana, when she was a little girl. She was so lovely- had the most lovely singing voice. I had first heard her singing in 19

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I Fed It To The Wolves  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
  
  
  
  
There are rules.  
  
Of course there are rules, wolves along with every other Other Borns were part of nature; and nature has very, _very_ strict rules.  
  
Simple, but strict.  
  
  
Steve thinks back onto those rules as he sits in the dimly lit conference room of SHIELD’s New York Head Quarters. He sits at the glass conference table, and though Steve is leaning into his chair with one elbow at the chair arm, his body is tense and his mind sharp.  
  
He rubs his right index finger along his lips as he watches the giant wolf pace around his cell through the grainy screen of SHEILD’s security cameras. His eyes narrows when the wolf lets out yet another heart breaking howl, runs and smashes his body against the thick silver bars. There is a distinctive hiss of burning flesh coming from the speakers. Steve can’t help but to mentally wince in sympathy for the giant black wolf. Silver burns are never pleasant. The wolf yelps and then growls at the bars and smashes against it again, and again and again till his body was full of burned burn and molten flesh. The wolf finally flinches away from the bars and lets out another howl before walking away.  
  
 _‘So… mindless’_ Steve thinks. In all his years as a wolf Steve had never seen a wolf behave so mindlessly..   
  
From behind the conference door opens, and as it opens it opens a flood of sounds of office bustle and then silence suddenly cuts in as the doors closes. Steve smells a whiff of gunpowder, leather and a faint scent of dark spice. Steve registers vaguely that it was coming from herb charm that Fury carried around with him. A man in the line of work working with Other Borns couldn’t be too careful, Steve supposes.   
  
He returns his attention to the wolf on the screen and notices the burn wounds on the wolf’s body that had already started to close and heal. Burnt fur grew back quickly, and within minutes it was as if the wolf had never had come into contact with the silver bars.  
  
           “Please tell me that you heal just as fast, Rogers.”  
  
Steve doesn’t answer Fury, instead his brows burrow down together and his eyes narrow and harden at the wolf shown on the screen.  
  
           “And _that_ is answer enough,” Fury says as he sighs unhappily and makes his way around the table, across Steve.  
  
Steve still doesn’t look at Fury as he sits down across the conference table. He continues to ignore him as the other man studies him with his good eye.   
  
           “It’s been a while Rogers.”  
  
Steve looks to Fury, his blue eyes gleaming the pale white as it flicks towards Fury then back to the screen.  
  
           “It has,” Steve replies from behind his fingers that rested on top of his lips.  
  
           “And how is it? The _mob_ business?” Fury asks, smirking. Steve tries not to roll his eyes at the other man’s passive aggression.   
   
           “How’s the search for that missing business man? Stark?” Steve shoots back. Fury’s smirk turns into a light glare that seems to say, ‘low blow, Rogers. Low blow.’  
The wolf finds it amusing to annoy the other man, Steve tries hard to not smirk at his retaliation.   
  
           “You know if Stark is found dead somewhere near Brooklyn, there is going to be hell raining down on you.”  
  
Both Steve and his wolf perk, all childish playing disappears, its time for business.  
Steve sits straighter in his chair.  
  
           “Yes, let’s talk about that.”  
  
Fury sits straighter in his seat too. Leans forward onto the conference table and folds his hands together.  
  
           “Stark is genius weapon’s designer, he’s contracted with the American Government,” Steve nods at the old information “He’s also a wolf. Not that that’s a surprise to anyone. The Starks had been one of the oldest founding families of wolves in America. They had been filthy rich since forever, needless to say the fact that he’s not only filthy rich but also a government contracted weapon’s designer and a wolf makes _a lot_ of people _very_ nervous.”  
  
           “Hmm…” Steve hums to acknowledge that he is following. Fury continues:  
  
“Unfortunately there are not many Stark wolves left in the small amount of family left. Unlike some families, they were very _loose_ with passing on their linage.”  
  
           “So Stark’s family doesn’t believe in pure linage. What does that have to do with anything?”  
  
           “It didn’t until earlier today his personal assistant had released new information to us. Stark is not only one of the last of his family line, he is an Omega.”

  
Steve stares at Fury and raises his brows. He then looks at his watch and checks the chronometer and looks back at Fury.  
  
           “Well, you better find your man soon, Fury. He’s due for heat any time soon.”  
  
Fury then leans away from the table and back into his chair.  
  
           “Nope. You better find Stark soon, because he’s due for his heat any time now.”  
  
           “What?” Steve spits out as the wolf in Steve growls unhappily.  
  
           “You find Stark, and I handle your wolf problems,” Fury says as quickly adds as Steve makes his way to get up and leave the room, “Look, you have too many problems surrounding Brooklyn all at once for it all to be a giant coincidence.” Steve stares at Fury unhappily but lets him continue, because in all reality, he has a point.   
  
           “When was the last time a wannabe Alpha came to challenge you? When was the last time any of the other families in New York came to you with a dispute? When was the last time there was a _quarrel_ between one of your street boys and one of theirs?”  
  
Steve remains silent, “Yea. That’s right,” Fury says, “Too god damn long. Something isn’t right. There is something going on and you know something is wrong because everyone else seems to be in on it except you. _You_ , my friend and your jolly group of a pack are the only ones around New York that has not been invited to this mysterious rendezvous plan. This isn’t about Stark. This is about you.”  
  
Steve stares at Fury.  
  
He knows Fury is right.  
  
Another long howl comes from the screen with the huge black stray.  
  
Both men stare at the wolf as the wolf slams himself against the bars again and again and again.  
  
           “I’ve never seen a wolf that big,” Steve breaks the silence that had fallen into the dark conference room, “Schmidt wasn’t even that big.”  
  
           “And he was a big mother fucker.” Steve again hums in agreement with Fury.  
  
           “I’ve also never seen someone, whether they are a stray or not, behave like that.”  
  
           “Like what?”  
  
Steve looks away from the wolf on the screen and to Fury. Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.  
  
           “There’s-” Steve starts but stops after the stray howls another bloody cry. Steve’s Alpha instincts take over and all Steve wants to do is get into the cell and tame the stray.  
  
           “There’s this saying, not that I’ve heard anyone actually going through it but there was a saying while growing up, people used to say, _‘Stop acting like a wolf in moonlust,’_ ,” Steve look up to Fury who has a grim expression on his face.  
  
           “I am familiar with the saying.”  
  
           “The saying comes from this folklore. It’s told to kids, well- cubs at night. It’s kind of like a scary story you tell kids to make them behave.”  
  
The wolf in the cage finally finishes slamming himself into the silver bars and again paces around the cage as the wounds hiss to a close.  
  
           “There are rules- wolves who are born wolves can turn humans into wolves, but only with consent. Wolves mate for life so there was this story where there was a wolf warrior at the beginning of time. He was a strong warrior ruled with great power and strength. His power was so strong and great he had the power to send his most treasured brothers, both wolves into the sky, one to chase the sun and one to chase the moon.”  
  
           “So this great warrior wolf, has something to do with this _thing?_ ”

  
Steve’s wolf snarls at Fury’s choice of words, Steve too grips the arm of his chair to hold steady. The pack leader instincts are running too high in Steve for him to care about maintaining his cool.  
                         
           “ _Don’t. Call him. That.”_

  
There is an awkward and tense pause in the conference room. Steve doesn’t realize that he’s growling till Fury decides that it is smarter to apologize to the wolf. Steve glares at Fury for a moment longer and then continues his story.  
  
           “This wolf warrior, because he was so great was given a lover by nature. They think this is why wolves mate for life.” Fury give a scoff, but then clears his throat quickly after Steve sends another glare.  
  
           “The wolf warrior was given a lover, a creature of the moon. Pale, dark, illuminating creature- apparently so beautiful that it broke the once calm oceans and forever casted waves against the shores. But…”  
  
Steve breaks, remembering hearing this story as a child from his Nana, and how this part of the story had always seem to send a cold spiking shiver down his spine. How curious, Steve thinks that he still after all these years still felt the same kind of shiver down his spine, recalling this part of the tale.  
  
           “But the moonlight creature was not a wolf, and every morning, the creature had to go away, some place dark. The warrior wolf not wanting to part with his love then proceeded to bite his lover thinking that he could turn his love into a wolf and together they could be together forever.”  
  
           “I’m guessing that it didn’t go his way,” Fury says.  
  
           “No. It didn’t go his way. There are rules for us too, Fury. Despite what SHIELD thinks of Other Borns, despite what the world thinks of Other Borns being higher beings than humans. It’s not like that. We’re just bound by a different set of laws.”   
  
There is a cabbie on Grand doing his rounds at this exact moment and three collage kids part timing at a movie theatre cleaning up after their last showing talking about their final exams. There is a Mr. and Mrs. Haveshim who live in a small cozy place in Harlem dancing to old tunes in their kitchen and a second year law associate just heading home after finishing the proofs his senior partner wanted him to do.  
  
The point was that it was 12: 49 am, Thursday morning and two of the most powerful men in New York were sitting in the same room staring at each other straight in the eye and talking about a folk tale.  
  
It would have been a ridiculous idea if not for the fact that for both of these men, it was more than a folk tale.  
  
  
           “What happened to the warrior wolf?” Fury asks.  
  
Steve does not break his eyes with Fury’s.  
  
           “He went mad,” Steve simply says and then continues to clarify, “His lover was not allowed to become a wolf. It was a moonlight creature, it was a beautiful yet bitter sweet love- it was Nature’s way of gifting the warrior and yet keeping the warrior in line. A wolf with powers so great that he had created day and night- a wolf so strong that when he howls the skies broke open and thunder and lightning struck- it was to humble him.”  
  
           “But he bit his lover.”  
  
           “He did, and it killed his lover. They say that when his lover died, the glow of the moonlight creature never returned to the moon, that the glow of his lover’s dying for was forever imprinted into his eyes,” Steve blinks and as his pupils retract the pale gleam in his eyes lusters over like a film and quickly disappears.  
  
           “And then he went mad.”  
  
           “They call it moonlust, when a wolf goes mad and all that is remaining in him is a lost wolf- in pain, in mourning- it makes someone into a mindless animal.”  
  
           “Like our friend here,” Fury nods towards the camera screen. Steve nods.  
  
           “No one has ever actually experienced moonlust, this is not something that just happens every day. It’s not something people simply go through- even if this man was bitten without consent, this is…” Steve looks away, he can’t find the right word to make fit.  
  
           “Wrong?” Fury supplies, Steve snaps his gaze back towards the one eyed and grimly nods.  
  
           “That’s not all is it?” Fury asks as he studies Steve’s silence. Steve replies with a sigh.  
  
           “Is there ever just one thing?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
The waterboarding continues.   
  
It continues for … well Tony’s not sure how many days its been. _They_ keep him somewhere underground, and so Tony’s lost the concept of days after counting up to 1123200 seconds.   
  
After that Tony distracts himself by breaking down the 1123200 seconds down to milliseconds (1123200000) then to microseconds (1.1232e+12) then to nano, pico and femtose, atto... ( 1.1232e+15, 1.1232e+18, 1.1232e+21, 1.1232e+24...)

  
After that he starts to re-build the blue prints to his latest projects in his head. He starts from things he’s designed in the previous 7 years. He’s reached up to the bio analysis of the Intellacrop before _they_ realize that Tony simply would not break from brute force.   
  
  
Tony knows its been days, because Yinsen has a watch with an analog built in.   
  
  
Tony should be relieved.   
He should be glad _they’ve_ stopped with the torture.  
Should be glad that his wound is closing up and is free of infections due to Yinsen’s meticulous cleaning... but he’s not.   
  
His surroundings are now too quiet, and his mind is much too loud.  
  
Whenever he closes his eyes he’s reminded of the flames licking him and the stare of dull, focuses and dead (so very much dead) eyes of the once enthusiastic, young, and vibrant eyes of the toll man; and whenever he opens his eyes he is constantly reminded of the harsh, sharp icy waters entering his nostrils and down his throat and into his lungs.   
  
  
_At least when they had me under water there was a moment of complete darkness_. Tony quickly dismisses the thought right away from his head, because he knows where that kind of thinking leads. He’s thought them before, he’s been down that dark road before and he had promised himself when he was younger, that he can never go there.   
  
  
So Tony goes back to reciting blue print plans in his head.   
  
And that’s when it strikes him.   
  
  
  
So he write a note to Yinsen a couple days after his revelation because he doesn’t know if the room is bugged even though he knows that the camera installed at the corner of the room has no audio.   
  
    ‘ _Can you convert silver to palladium?’_  


 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this part was quiet short compared to the other parts written.  
> it is quiet vague and ambiguous at most parts, i hope you guys can all bare with it, all questions will be answered soon. 
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
